


La seconda luna di miele

by NotPersephone



Series: Incipit vita nova [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Romance in Venice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:51:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11233275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: Continuation of "Beatrice", Bedelia and Hannibal leave Florence together and arrive in Venice.





	La seconda luna di miele

She has never been to Venice. _They_ have never been to Venice.  

How strange that of all the thoughts storming in her mind, such an ordinary one has chosen to surface.

They boarded a train, leaving Florence behind; he left his pursuers and she left her alibi. Bedelia looks at Hannibal and sees him smiling broadly, not an image of man whose freedom, and life, were endangered a mere hours ago. And still are. He takes her hand and squeezes it gently, in the similar manner he did on their flight to Paris, assuring himself she truly is here with him, not merely a vision of his mind. Bedelia squeezes back, suddenly needing reassurance of her own. They left in haste; her pragmatic self is lost in a sea of unknown once more, yet this time she has no lifebuoy, and, surprisingly, she does not want one.

After arrival, they take a water taxi and the city welcomes them with its stunning sights as the boat cruises along the Canal Grande.

“Why haven’t we visited this place before?” she wonders, admiring the palazzi on both sides of the canal.

“I was saving it for a special occasion,” Hannibal replies with a sudden timidity, but no further explanation is offered. Bedelia doubts that attempting to escape imprisonment qualifies as special time.

The boat pulls by a magnificent building at the bank of the canal, Palazzo Gritti, right at the heart of the city.

“Is it wise to stay in such a widely-known area?” she asks after the bellboy escorts them to their suite, a lavish apartment, all white and golden brown with stucco walls and frescos on the ceiling.

“If the hotel is not to your liking, we can find a better one.”

“That is not what I meant,” Hannibal’s desire for the highest standard is not something she has ever questioned,” Someone might recognise you.”

“There is no better place to hide than in plain sight. No one will look for us here,” he responds with overt confidence,” You haven’t seen the view yet.” He leads her to the balcony door and opens it to reveal a breathtaking sight of the canal and the church of Santa Maria della Salute.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Hannibal admires the church.

“Yes,” Bedelia is not particularly fond of religious structures, but she cannot deny the grand architectural design.

“In the seventeenth century, Venice was devastated by a plague and this church was decreed to be erected if the city was saved,” he enjoys sharing her knowledge with her.

“Dealing with an aftermath of an epidemic by constructing an ostentatious monument of worship. How _appropriate_.”

“When faced with a possibility of death, people tend to turn to what they believe in. Or become conscious of what is the most important to them,” Hannibal’s eyes shine with feeling and he falls silent.

 

He holds her closer than ever that night, as though afraid she could vanish. Bedelia does not mind, holding him tighter herself.

She wakes early, feeling him shift in their embrace. His lips touch her skin softly, kissing her cheek, then travelling down her jaw, before finding the sensitive spot under her chin and tonguing it until she gasps and her eyes spring open.

“Hannibal, you are hurt,” she whispers as his hands begin to trail the well-explored curves of her body with undying fervour, “This is not a good time.”

“It is a perfect time,” he murmurs, his lips moving against her neck, his breath feeling hot on her skin, “I do not want to waste a single moment with you.”

“Making new additions to your memory palace?”

“No, living,” he hooks his fingers in the straps of her gown, pulling it down to expose her breasts. His eyes travel to her erect nipples and he smiles, caressing the sensitive swell. Her body always responded to him, craving and longing, revealing the truth, even when her stubborn mind refused to acknowledge it.

She comes twice, loudly, his name spilling from her lips each time; her way of telling him that she is also feeling very much alive, and she has been since the day they left Baltimore together.

 

Much later that morning, Bedelia enjoys her coffee and cornetto on the balcony, wrapped in her favourite blue silk robe that Hannibal made sure to pack for her. The warm air sweeps through her still mussed hair and caresses her dewy pink cheeks. She takes in the view; the city is alive, yet surprisingly quiet, and she feels the serenity washing over her.

She hears Hannibal standing behind her. His arm wraps around her waist, as he brings her closer to his chest. Fingers draws aside the robe ever so slightly, baring just a hint of her collar bone. He trails the tip of his nose across that line and presses a lingering kiss on her skin.

“The scent of your sun-kissed skin is most intoxicating. We should choose another warm place of residence.”

Bedelia turns her head, regarding him with her mesmeric gaze; his singular complements never falter. Her hand rests on his cheek, a soft caress follows.

“Not too warm,” she specifies, excessive heat is not to her liking.

“Whatever you desire,” he takes her hand and kisses her palm, “We could see the city today.”

Bedelia grows wary, her moment of peace suddenly forgotten.

“Hannibal, you are a wanted man. We should not be parading in broad daylight,” she pulls away from his embrace.

“As you pointed out, we haven’t been here before. Millions of people visit this city every year. We are safe amongst the crowd.” Bedelia would feel safer in a place with a well-defined escape route, like accessible streets.

“I would love to show you the sights. Don’t you trust me?” he adds with a boastful smile. A brazen statement from a man who lead multiple pursuers to their very door step.

“Not entirely,” she raises an eyebrow. Hannibal bows his head, almost repentant.

“I will work on that,” he pulls her closer once more.

“Fine,” Bedelia’s eyes contemplate the view of the canal, she would enjoy seeing more of it.

“I have arranged for a gondola.”

“A gondola?” she has not anticipated her trust would be misused so soon. She saw them gliding gracefully beneath their window, slender black vessels ruined by an ostentatious décor of red or purple plush seats with fringes. She could swear she saw pom-poms on one of them

“The fastest way to get around Venice is by boat,” Hannibal explains with conviction.

“Yes, a speed boat,” Bedelia retorts.

“True, but it is far less poetic,” he kisses her temple.

 

An hour later, they make their way to the front entrance of the hotel, Hannibal in plain white shirt and a pair of light brown trousers and Bedelia in a blue summer dress. The gondola already awaits them, a young man in a top with black and white stripes welcomes them with a well-practiced, spirited smile. He extends his hand to Bedelia, but retracts it immediately upon seeing Hannibal’s stare. Intimidated, the man turns his attention to the boat and a tiny half smile appears on Bedelia’s lips. Hannibal steps into the gondola and a flinch of pain passes his face as he puts too much pressure on his injured leg, yet he says nothing, offering his hand and helping her take her sit.

They start off traveling down the main waterway, before moving to explore the labyrinth of small canals. Bedelia marvels at the intricate beauty of the buildings nestled between the water, still serving residents after hundreds of years. She senses Hannibal watching her.

“Are you not enjoying the view?” she asks, turning her head and meeting his gaze.

“I am,” he replies earnestly, his eyes soft, adoring and she makes no further remark, allowing him that indulgence.

The boat turns left and meets a sudden current, rocking from side to side. Bedelia’s body tenses and Hannibal’s arm reaches over, curling securely around her shoulders.

“Is it your honeymoon?” the gondolier asks, charmed by the couple, his first impression of Hannibal now forgotten.

“Our second honeymoon,” Hannibal responds, his gaze remaining on Bedelia.

Slowly, she smiles, leaning her head on his shoulder with a soft hum and relishing his soothing embrace as their tour continues.

They stay in Venice for two weeks, undisturbed, and then leave for Switzerland, under new names, starting their life together anew.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in the garden of my hotel in Venice, drinking too many bottles of Bellini and fighting off mosquitoes.  
> The presidential suite in the Palazzo Gritti costs around 10.000 Euro. I'm looking for sponsors ;)
> 
> I love to write their happy ending and hope you enjoy it too. Thank you for reading!


End file.
